


We Witches Three

by SilenceIsGolden15



Series: Voltron Oneshots [49]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Fantastic Racism, Fire, Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Guilt, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Keith (Voltron) Has Abandonment Issues, Lonely Keith (Voltron), Magic, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Team as Family, Witchcraft, Witches, just a little, just a smidge, these tags are a mess im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 09:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19082212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: After answering a distress call, the Paladins (plus Allura) set off into a mysterious swamp, in hopes of finding dozens of missing villagers. But what they don't realize is that they're missing something, too.





	We Witches Three

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 100th work! I wanted to do something special for my 100th post and came up with this. Hope you guys like it :)

“So… anyone wanna place bets on who sinks into the swamp first?”

Pidge immediately raised her hand. “Ten GAC on Hunk.”

“Hey!”

“What? You’re the biggest, it’s just science.”

“I’ll make sure to drag you down with me.”

Shiro took a deep breath and nearly gagged on the scent in the air. Apparently the swamp planet couldn’t have just been that-- no, it just had to be a  _ stinky  _ swamp planet, too. Thankfully for his dignity he was able to keep a straight face. But God did he hate his life sometimes.

“Paladins,” Allura said in a sharp tone, “Please remember your manners. We’re here to help these people, not insult their home.”

“It’s a swamp, Allura,” answered Keith, deadpan, “There’s not many nice things to say about it.”

“Be that as it may, I expect all of you to be courteous. The people here have been through enough. And yes, that does include you, Keith.”

Keith huffed and folded his arms over his chest, but didn’t say anything else. 

“Now come along. The village isn’t far from here. We can take the Lion’s speeders.”

She was right-- it took only half an hour of traveling over the surface of the bog to reach the village, a cluster of two hundred or so low buildings made of dim gray mud and roofed with even dimmer gray-green leaves. 

The townsfolk watched them from their open windows and doorways as the Paladins drove by, hopeful glimmers in every grouping of four green eyes. The people’s skin was as gray as the swamp, probably camouflage, and from what Shiro could see, their clothes were made from the same material as the roofs, but more finely woven. 

Directing from her seat on Shiro’s speeder, Allura led them to the largest building in the village, a circular one with no windows, and a column of smoke rising from the hole in the roof. One by one they parked their speeders outside, and as they dismounted three more aliens emerged from the building. 

These aliens had heads shaped like hammers, those four green eyes evenly spaced along one flat side, and along with the robes of green cloth these three also wore red cords around their waists, made of roughly woven thread. They were bent with age, and one of them supported himself with a walking stick taller than himself. 

They watched expectantly as the Paladins lined up before them. Allura took the front, and for the moment they were quiet as the Princess addressed them.

“Elders of Corick,” she began, removing her helmet in a gesture of faith, “The Paladins of Voltron have heard your distress call, and are here to provide aid in your time of need.”

“We thank you, Princess Allura,” said the one with the staff. “Even in these far reaches of the universe the legend of Voltron has reached our ears. Your offer of aid is both timely and much appreciated.”

The one to his right gestured with a gnarled, clawed hand. “Come, let us speak within.” 

Allura moved forward without hesitation, but for a moment Shiro kept his place, darting quick, analytical eyes over the space. Only when his paranoia had been assuaged did he follow her, and the other Paladins followed behind him. 

The inside of the building was cast in the flickering light of a large fire in the center of the floor, made of the same mud bricks as the walls. The smoke got into Shiro’s helmet through the open mouthpiece and stung his eyes, but he tried his best to blink away the tears and focus on the room. Thankfully it was empty besides some benches and a long box made of, yet again, gray wood. 

“Please, sit,” one of the Elders said. “I regret that our hospitality has degraded as of late, but the village is upon hard times.”

They all sat around the fire. Keith, though he’d been at the back of the line on the way in, came around to sit at Shiro’s right. As he sat his shoulder pad brushed Shiro’s and he gave an almost undetectable wince, which made Shiro cringe a little in sympathy. He’d been so busy with Allura for the past few weeks that he hadn’t had time to train with Keith, which led to Keith training alone, which led to pushing too hard and earning himself massive bruises like the one that now marred his left bicep. 

Shiro felt bad, but… this was a war and there were only so many hours in a day. Surely Keith understood that.

Once they were all seated, the eldest of the Elders hobbled to the middle of the room with the help of his staff and turned to face them. The fire cast eerie shadows over his wrinkled face. 

“Since the founding of this village, many decaphoebs ago--”

“Here we go,” muttered Lance in a low tone. Shiro ground his teeth and reminded himself to scold him later. By the look on Allura’s face, she was thinking the same. 

“There has been a legend told. The ancient tales speak of three beings who live in the depths of the bog, beings who possess abilities beyond those of the common folk. They send their voices on the wind, calling to those who feel unwanted. If they follow they vanish into the mists, never to be seen again, and it is told that any who go after them suffer their worst fears, and die most painful deaths.”

Hunk shifted uncomfortably, making his bench squeak. 

“Most decaphoebs we lose only one person to the spirits, if that. But in the last two, we have lost more than fifty.” 

Shiro’s back straightened. Allura’s attention was also arrested.

“I take it this is the reason you sent the distress call?”

One of the other elders nodded. Without the help of the staff, he was having trouble distinguishing between them. 

“We had little hope of anyone responding, but we knew not what else to do. Family or friends going after those lost in the swamp only results in more being lost.”

“But,” spoke up the third, “if we send someone with no emotional connection to the lost, perhaps the witches’ magic will be impotent.”

Then, surprisingly, Keith interjected. “You said they take the lonely ones. Why are there so many now?”

The eldest one gripped his staff tightly. “That is part of what concerns us most. One cannot know the true thoughts of any other-- many of those who vanish never gave an indication of how they were feeling.”

Shiro glanced over, but for once he couldn’t read Keith’s face. He said nothing else, and Allura took over once again. 

“Do you know where we should begin our search?”

Expressions of relief took over the three faces. Allura was barely able to dismiss the flood of gratitude and actually get the information they needed. 

The center of the swamp. According to Pidge, some thirty miles’ ride through the stinking bog. 

Yeah. Shiro really hated his life sometimes.

* * *

 

The fog began to thicken about ten miles from the village. It swirled around them in smoky coils, and they were forced to slow their pace and maneuver more carefully. 

Shiro thought that would mean quiet over comms for a change, but alas, if Lance was anything he was a multitasker.

“I still can’t believe we’re hunting down a bunch of witches in a swamp. Like, really? Witches?”

“Why is that so surprising?” countered Pidge while Shiro tried not to roll his eyes too hard. “Zarkon has a witch.”

“Yeah but she has weird science-magic. Plenty of people on Earth thought witches were real and they weren’t. How are we supposed to know which one these are? If they exist at all?”

“Even if they don’t exist,” Keith said gruffly, “All those people still went missing. There has to be a reason why.”

“Maybe they just don’t like it there?” offered Hunk. 

“Whatever happened to the townspeople we will figure it out, witches or not,” Allura finally said, sparing Shiro from having to try and follow the conversation and lead the speeders through the marsh at the same time. “It is true it may merely be a superstition, but it may just as well be something beyond our understanding, like the Lions, or Zarkon’s witch. We should still exercise caution.”

That prompted quiet for another ten miles, but by then the fog had solidified into nearly a wall of white and their pace had slowed to a crawl. While Shiro busied himself with the mapping software on the speeder, the others lapsed back into conversation. 

“Is anyone else getting serious Macbeth vibes from this whole thing?” asked Pidge, and Keith huffed a little laugh. 

“Lemme know if your thumbs start pricking,” he said. 

Pidge responded with a sound of bafflement. “Wow, Keith, I didn’t know you read.”

“Didn’t think you had time with all the training you do,” added Hunk, and the two laughed at their good natured joke. 

Keith said nothing. 

Finally, after more than an hour and a half of traveling, they reached the location that had been entered on their maps. But thanks to the damned fog, it looked exactly the same as all the rest of the swamp they’d been driving by. 

Still, they disembarked. It smelled even worse here, if that was possible, and Shiro could barely see the color of the others’ armor through the mist. For a long moment they just stood, even Allura at a loss for what to do next. 

“Well,” Shiro said at length, “I guess we should--”

“Did you guys hear that?”

Shiro frowned at the blur of red that was Keith. “Hear what?” He couldn’t hear anything besides the slight whistle of wind and the squelch of the mud under their boots (sidenote: ew). 

“It sounded like whispering.”

“Awwwww Keith, stop kidding around, it’s not funny.”

Keith’s frustration was obvious in his voice when he answered, “I’m not kidding, Hunk, I really did hear--”

“I believe him.” Shiro raised his eyebrows, surprised at Lance’s solemn tone, until: “Lord knows Keith wouldn’t know a joke if he tripped over one.”

Keith let out a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a snarl.

“I swear--”

“Paladins,  _ please--” _

The mist swirled. Shiro took a half step back, hand at his side in case he needed to fight, but didn’t activate it yet. 

A shadow moved at the corner of his eye. 

“Guys,” he called, cutting them off in the middle of their bickering, “Something’s out there.”

In a moment they shifted, changing from teenagers to soldiers, falling back into their practiced circle to cover each others’ backs. 

Silence, heavy as rocks, then another flurry of movement. 

“Oh, I saw that one!” Hunk exclaimed, sounding not at all excited. 

“Pidge, do a scan for life forms.”

“Ten-four.”

Shiro didn’t dare take his eyes away from the fog. The disturbances were growing in number, until there seemed to be a ring of rippling mist surrounding them, like they were in the center of a tornado. 

For a moment he thought he saw the edge of a shadow, but Pidge spoke and pulled his attention away. 

“I’m getting some readings, but they’re scattered.”

“Is it possible the fog is interfering?” Allura asked. 

“As far as I can tell, no.”

Shiro took a deep breath of rancid air. “Alright, shields up. Let’s--” Before he could finish his command the swirling mist came to a sudden standstill. The wind ceased its howling, and for several seconds their breathing was the only sound. 

“I’m hearing it again,” Keith whispered, though it sounded like the trumpet of an elephant in the quiet. “The whispers.”

“Something’s out there,” said Pidge. 

All he could see was still fog-- a wall of white. Then he blinked, and there was a shadow before him. 

The others cried out. Shiro dared a quick glance around, leaving his shadow just for a moment, and on the edges of their circle loomed two more figures, featureless in the mist.

“Who are you?” Allura demanded, imperious as always. But the forms were still and silent, providing no answer. 

With a war cry Keith sprang forward, swinging his bayard through one of the shadows. But his blade met no resistance, swishing through the shape like air, and a low laugh began to echo. 

“Silly boy,” said a voice in front of Shiro. He snapped back around, but it was still nothing more than a shape in a cloud. 

“Do you not know us, Princess?” cooed another. This voice was less gnarled sounding, less ancient, but still it carried an echo of limitless void and empty stars-- millenia of knowledge turned to ash. 

It reminded him of Haggar, and despite the heavy humidity of the swamp, Shiro felt a chill roll down his spine. 

“We know you,” murmured a third voice. “We know all of your doubts,”

“And fears,” said the second.

“And how it feels to be alone in all the universe.”

Shiro focused back on his shadow, resolving not to look away again, but it probably wouldn’t be much help. They still hadn’t stirred, despite the few extra swings Keith had taken at them. 

“These are the Paladins of Voltron.” If Allura had felt their words, she gave no indication. “We have come to free the people you hold prisoner.”

“Prisoner?” asked the second voice while the one before Shiro cackled unsettlingly. “We hold no prisoners. Only those who came to us willingly.”

“Their families want them back,” Lance said through clenched teeth. 

This time all three of the witches laughed, their voices reverberating across the empty swamp, and Shiro’s shadow finally emerged from the mist. 

The witch was surprisingly different from the townspeople they’d met before. Its (his? Her? Their?) skin was the same slate gray, the eyes the same glowing green, but she had only two, set in a human-like face crowned with wild black hair. When she opened her mouth to speak, a forked tongue was revealed through teeth like needles. 

“Yes, we can see how much their families desire their return.” The witch turned and began to pace around the circle. Her figure, robed in regal purple, went out of Shiro’s line of sight as she continued. “So much that they would pay strangers to search for them rather than come themselves.”

The other witches were pacing too. The second one wore the same cloth as the first, only in blood red, and she bared her serrated teeth at Shiro. 

“Lazy,” she snarled, narrowing her eyes. “Despicable.”

Shiro swallowed hard as she passed. They looked different from Zarkon’s witch, but their voices…

The owner of the third voice walked by next. The effect was dizzying, especially with the fog swirling behind them. She wore green, lighter than the clothes the villagers wore, and metal bracelets clinked on her wrists.

“If they cared, they would have come themselves.”

Shiro was beginning to get nervous. They hadn’t attacked so far, but they’d already seen that the bayards wouldn’t work on them. Thankfully, Allura was there, and she knew more ways to fight than just with weapons. 

“On the contrary,” she said as the witches prowled around them. “Their families have heard the tales of those who follow the lost into the swamp. They know their efforts would be in vain. By choosing to send someone more experienced, they prove that their love is above selfish and ineffective displays of affection.”

Not once through her speech did the witches stop pacing. Shiro was getting a little nauseous. 

“A clever argument,” said the witch in violet. 

“But not good enough,” sneered the red. 

“How can you care for those you don’t know,” the green one paused before Shiro, her eyes boring straight into his soul, “When you neglect one of your own?”

Shiro’s heart stopped, and the hissed breaths he heard behind him said he wasn’t the only one. The witch smirked, but Shiro was busy combing his recent memory. 

_ Who could it be? Maybe Allura; the witch called her out before and she lost her people. Maybe Pidge, or Lance, missing their families. Maybe-- _

“I will offer you a deal.” The voice of the purple witch pulled him from his thoughts. “If you can prove to us that you care for your team, we will tell all the ones who have come to us to go home. But,” she raised a clawed finger, “If even one of you fails, we keep them forever.”

Personally, Shiro would’ve thought over it a bit more before agreeing. But before he could Allura said, “Done,” and then all the witches were wearing shark smiles that made his stomach twist. 

The witch in red leaned over to the one in green. “Which one, Nemay?” she asked. The green studied them all for a moment, then raised a hand and pointed.

“Him.”

For a terrifying moment Shiro thought she was pointing at him. Then he heard the startled shout from behind him-- Keith, crying his name-- and spun around. The fog was closing in, coiling around Keith’s body like it was alive.

“Keith!” He didn’t even make it a step before the red witch clenched her fist and the mist rose up around him as well, closing like vices around his legs until his shins ached. Still he reached out. Keith’s hand was only a few inches away from his, but the fog swallowed him up, and when it dissipated a few moments later Keith had vanished with it. 

Shiro, his limbs freed once more, fastened angry eyes on the purple witch, who seemed to him to be the one in charge. 

“What did you do to Keith?” His voice was low and dangerous, but none of the witches looked particularly concerned. “Bring him back!”

“It’s too late for that now,” said the purple witch with a smirk. “You agreed to our test. Now his fate rests with you. Sisters.”

At that the witches reached for each other, joining hands and twining their clawed fingers together. The last thing he saw was their eyes, gleaming emerald. 

Everything went black. 

* * *

It was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. There was no way this was real. It couldn’t be real. 

He couldn’t be in the halls of Central Command again. The cold metal, the magenta lights, the soldiers in their armor that was far too familiar and the roar of the crowd on the other side of the gate. There was no way he was back there… right?

He was trying to remember how to breathe when the guard approached, sword in hand. Shiro was in the front of one of the two lines this time, so he knew it couldn’t be a memory, if it were Matt would be standing in front of him, so it had to be a dream.

But if it was a dream, how did it feel so real?

Shiro stared at the guard’s visor. Making himself inhale and exhale and inhale again, even as it felt like wolves were trapped in his stomach trying to gnaw their way out of him. His human hand shook at his side.

But when the guard stepped forward, he didn’t offer the hilt of the sword to Shiro. Instead he turned to Shiro’s right, thrusting it at the person at the front of the second line, and the relief made him weak at the knees and dizzy. He gasped for air, finally able to breathe again… until he turned to see who was getting sent in. 

All the oxygen he just gained was forced from his lungs. The person standing beside him wasn’t another alien, or Matt, or Sam. It was Keith.

His hair was messy and long, brushing the tops of his shoulders, and though he looked at the guard with determination, the circles under his eyes exposed his exhaustion. 

Shiro didn’t think. He slammed his shoulder into Keith’s side, sending him stumbling into the wall and away from the guard, and took the sword for himself with a rough tug.

The guard smirked at him. “Just as bloodthirsty as ever, eh Champion?”

Shiro clenched his jaw and said nothing. If he opened his mouth he would vomit, or cry, or scream, and he couldn’t do any of those things. He couldn’t seem weak or they’d send Keith to the arena. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let them do it to Keith too. He’d die first. 

Slowly, the gate to the ring began to rise. The sight of the sand made his hands shake, the light stung his eyes, the crowd was deafening. On the other side of the arena floor was a creature even larger than Myzax and built like a tank, and for a moment Shiro felt his spirit quail, until he reminded himself who he was protecting. 

He stepped through the gate. 

* * *

Shiro fell to his knees, gagging on the rancid air. In seconds he was surrounded again by the other Paladins, all babbling at him in alarmed tones while he tried to process the sudden jump from arena to bog. 

“Shiro, are you ok?”

“Did you see Keith?”

“Your eyes turned black, man, it was so creepy--”

“What did they do to you?”

He shoved one of them off-- he wasn’t sure which-- and drew his hand over his eyes. He had to go under the visor, meaning he still had his armor, and when he finally blinked them open his sight confirmed what his nose had been telling him.

They were still in the swamp, though not in the same place. The ground here was drier, more like damp soil than mud, and a wall of thin trees formed a ring around them, outside of which the ever present fog lurked. The witches must have teleported them or something. That sounded like a thing they could do.

“Well done, Paladin,” said a voice in front of him, and Shiro’s head jerked up. The witch in the royal purple robe was giving him a wry sort of smile from where she stood. “Of course, you we expected to pass.”

Hunk helped Shiro to his feet. His knees still trembled a little from what he’d seen, but he ignored it as best he could and squared his shoulders.

“Where did you send Keith?” he asked, choosing to ignore her previous statement. “Can we see him?”

“No, you may not!” snapped the red witch. She almost took a step forward before the purple one laid a hand on her shoulder. 

“Be calm, Jala.”

“Roz--”

“To answer your question, Paladin.” Jala scowled at being ignored. Roz only ignored her more. “He is somewhere you cannot find. We will proceed with the tests. Nemay?”

The witch’s eyes prowled over them. “You,” she said, pointing at Pidge. “Come forward.”

Shiro ground his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to watch all of them go through the same thing he had, but he didn’t seem to have a choice. He settled for glowering in the direction of the witches as they gathered around Pidge.

Two of them pressed their fingertips to Pidge’s helmet, Roz on the left and Nemay on the right. In the center stood Jala, hands joined with the other two and forming a circle. From his position all Shiro could see was Pidge’s back, but he could tell when the magic kicked in by how her shoulders slumped and her head tilted to the ground. 

“So, uh, how are we gonna get out of this?” Lance whispered in his ear. 

“We’re not going to,” was Allura’s answer. “We agreed to take the tests.”

“But what if one of us fails?” asked Hunk.

“Then we fight.”

Shiro wasn’t listening anymore. It hadn’t been until Hunk’s statement that it finally sunk in-- Keith was the lonely one. He felt unwanted. He felt neglected. Keith had been alone for so long, why had it taken him until now to remember? 

Then he remembered the bruise, and guilt burned like acid at the back of his mouth. Shiro had disappeared for a year, Keith thought he was dead, and Shiro repaid that pain by skipping out on the only alone time they had in the middle of this fucked up war. 

He was the only person Keith had, and he walked away. 

Tears burned in his eyes. This whole situation was his fault, he knew that now; all he could hope was that the others would pass their tests and give him the opportunity to prove it. 

_ And I will. I’ll prove it to you, Keith.  _

* * *

She was so close. So close she could practically taste it. The base would have the information she needed, the last breadcrumb in the trail that would lead her to her family, she just had to get there and then she would find them, she knew it. 

Which only made it that much more frustrating that she  _ couldn’t get there.  _

This jungle was the textbook definition of overgrown. The tree roots protruding from the soil were as thick around as her waist, the bushes and ferns towered over her head, and the trees themselves were taller than skyscrapers. Everywhere there was the buzz of insects (whose size she chose not to contemplate) and the rustle of enormous leaves, and sweat built up on the back of her neck and slid over her skin. 

All of these things she could’ve worked through if it was just her. But she wasn’t alone, and that was the part that was choking her with rage, because Keith was leaning heavily on her shoulder, dragging his injured leg behind them, and they weren’t going fast enough. 

_ Leave him,  _ whispered the part of her mind that had convinced her to try and leave Voltron all those months ago.  _ Just set him down and go. You can get the data from the base and then come back. He’ll be fine.  _

For the moment her sense of decency kept her from doing so. But the longer they struggled on, the more minutes she felt tick away from her, the more appealing the option seemed. 

After a time that felt like hours but was probably only minutes, Keith patted her arm.

“Stop. Pidge, stop.”

Irritation prickled up her throat, but she obeyed, trying to set him down as gently as possible. Keith’s leg really was a mess-- torn practically to shreds, and the makeshift bandages she’d put on him weren’t doing much to stop the flow of blood. 

“Go on without me,” he panted. His cheeks were disturbingly pale. “Go on, get to the base, I’ll be fine.”

She felt her heart bound up in her chest despite her attempts to hold it down. Here was her opportunity-- Keith was even telling her to go! She didn’t need to feel guilty or anything, she could just go and come back and then she could find her family.

Pidge was going to do it. When she straightened up and cast an inspecting look around the jungle, she fully intended on figuring out which way to go and moving out. She had her hands outstretched, ready to close her fingers around the opportunity to find her family.

Until she caught a glimpse of yellow eyes watching them from the underbrush and her stomach dropped. 

The thing that attacked Keith had followed them. Waiting for an opportunity, just like she was. It hadn’t attacked when there was two of them, but if she left him here…

Pidge wasn’t sure where the feeling came from. But suddenly she knew, beyond any doubt, that if she left Keith here, she would never see him again. 

But if she didn’t, she might not get the info she needed. She might never see her brother or father again. 

“What are you waiting for?” Keith snapped, jolting her out of her staring contest with the creature. “Go! You’re wasting time!”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. Steeling herself, she straightened her shoulders and bent down to haul Keith’s arm over them. 

“Pidge, what are you--”

“I’m not leaving you here. Get up, we’re moving.”

Her leg muscles strained as she helped Keith up, but she didn’t stop, and when she raised her head to the jungle again, it was gone. 

And she was waking up. 

* * *

Pidge’s test didn’t take long. After only five minutes she straightened up with a gasp, grasping at her helmet and swaying on her feet, and when she turned to face the rest of them her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Pidge?” Shiro asked, alarmed. “Are you ok?”

She stumbled over to their huddle and collapsed in front of him. Already her back was shaking with the force of her sobs, but despite a frantic examination, Shiro couldn’t find anything wrong. 

“It’s our fault,” she gasped out, barely audible under Lance and Hunk worrying. “It’s our fault, he told us he was hearing them, he tried to tell us and I laughed, I laughed at him, I--” She broke down, crying too hard to speak, and Shiro couldn’t either for fear of his own tears reappearing.

So he did the next best thing and pulled her into his arms. 

“The yellow one next,” declared Roz. Shiro heard Hunk’s breath catch and gave him the most motivational look he could manage while also holding a sobbing teenage girl. The expression he got back told him exactly how useful it was before Hunk stood to join the witches. 

Shiro closed his eyes and held Pidge just a little closer. 

* * *

Why did  _ he  _ have to be the one who got the burning building?

By all counts it didn’t make sense. It seemed like the middle of nowhere, no other buildings in sight, except for this wooden two-story that just so happened to be on  _ freaking fire.  _ There wasn’t even anyone else around-- how did he end up here? Alone in front of a burning building. What the actual--

Hunk coughed when a screen of smoke blew in his direction. It stung his throat and made his eyes water, so he turned his back to the building and hunched up his shoulders, hoping the wind would change again. 

Maybe he should go and get help. Surely there had to be a fire department somewhere, right? He should go find them and then let the professionals deal with this. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. 

He’d barely taken a step when a scream rang out. 

Hunk spun on his heel. The heat of the flames burned on his cheeks, but his palms felt clammy. That voice… he could’ve sworn it sounded like Keith. But that couldn’t be right, could it? 

Something inside the building cracked, and there was a rumble as the interior of the structure began to collapse. Again there was a shout, this time of pain instead of fear, and there was no longer any question in Hunk’s mind. 

Somehow Keith had wound up in that building, and Hunk was the only person around to help him. 

Crap. 

“Oh man oh man oh man,” he whispered to himself as he sealed his helmet against the smoke. He took a few unsteady steps towards the inferno. “Ok Hunk, just don’t think too hard. All you gotta do is go in, find Keith, and get out. Easy.” 

_ Except that the house is literally on fire.  _

“Ok ok ok, oh jeez, ok, here we go.”

Before he could talk himself out of it, he rushed through the collapsed front door and into the heart of the blaze. Even with the protection of his armor it was hot, and within moments he was pouring sweat, but he didn’t stop. The problem wasn’t necessarily the flames. Really the problem was he had no idea where Keith was. 

“Keith?” he called, “Keith, where are you?”

For a terrifying second there was no answer, then to his left he heard a weak voice call out.

“Here, I’m here.”

Fighting back dizzying fear, Hunk followed the voice. 

Barely a minute later he found Keith, pinned beneath a fallen support strut, flames slowly licking up the wood towards him. 

He didn’t give himself time to be afraid. Immediately he squatted down beside Keith and grasped the strut. There were still two or so feet between his hands and the flames, but even that felt dangerously close.

“Ok Keith,” he said, “I’m gonna lift this, and you’re gonna have to get yourself out from underneath it. Got it?”   
Keith seemed a bit dazed, and something wild was in his eyes, but he nodded. 

“Alright. On three. One, two, three.” 

He heaved the pillar up. It was heavier than he’d expected, that was for sure, and almost immediately Hunk felt his muscles protesting, but he took a deep breath and pushed himself just a little harder. 

Under the crackle of the flames Hunk heard him gasp, then descend into a coughing fit, but even so managed to wiggle out from underneath the pillar. It hit the floor with a heavy thud when Hunk dropped it, and after a moment to catch his breath he turned to help Keith to his feet. 

He immediately began coughing again. He didn’t have his helmet, so his cheeks were smeared with ash and flushed from the heat, and he had an arm wrapped around his abdomen. His ribs were most likely cracked given the pained expression he made with every cough. 

Without a second thought Hunk pulled his own helmet off and plunked it over Keith’s head. Hopefully it would seal with Keith’s suit and start the flow of oxygen.

Instantly his eyes were stinging and watering, and his lungs burned at the smoke, but he ignored Keith’s horrified expression and grasped him by the wrist to lead him back out of the building-- hopefully before any more of it collapsed. 

It took longer than Hunk would’ve liked. His coughing was growing worse by the second, and Keith would freeze anytime they came too near the flames. That was strange, especially for the Guardian of fire, but he tried not to think about it. He could feel his own fear welling ever-higher in his chest; he had to get them out before it got the better of him. 

Finally he found his way back to the front door. The stars in the sky were obscured by the smoke, but he felt the cool breeze on his cheeks like an open refrigerator door on a hot day.

And not a moment too soon. Barely two seconds after Hunk and Keith stumbled out of the building the ceiling collapsed. The wood crumbled and fell in on itself like a card castle, embers spitting far into the sky, bright sparks amidst the smoke.

The sound of his helmet hitting the ground pulled him back. Keith’s face was awash with tears, carving paths through the smudges of soot, and just by sight Hunk could tell he was shaking. 

It wasn’t until he reached out that Hunk realized he was shaking too. 

Keith turned away from his grasp, trying to hide his face behind his hair. That just wouldn’t do, Hunk decided, and after a few coughs to clear his throat he gave Keith a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

“Man, that was scary, huh?” he said. His voice came out rather gravelly and hoarse, but that was only to be expected. 

Keith didn’t look over at him, but did murmur a quiet agreement, and though it surprised him Hunk kept that fact hidden. Instead he pulled Keith into his shoulder. This time he accepted the hug, and slowly he felt Keith’s trembles begin to fade. 

He closed his eyes against the remnants of the fire, and opened them again to the swamp. 

* * *

Hunk was surprisingly composed when he emerged from the witches’ test. He was pale, but there were no tears, and his expression appeared more thoughtful than traumatized. He still accepted Lance’s hug, but didn’t answer when he asked about the test.

By this time Pidge had calmed, and to a lesser degree so had Shiro. Once all of this was over he would probably have a hell of an episode, but for now he could compartmentalize. And that was a good thing, as the violet witch was now gesturing for Allura to come forward for her test.

Maybe it was unfair of him, but this whole time he’d been nervous about Allura and Lance. If any of them were going to fail it would be one of those two. 

Allura appeared confident, however, and showed no sign of fear as the witches reached out for her. Her chin dropped to her chest as she went under the spell, and just barely Jala’s lips quirked into a smile.

“Shiro?” whispered Lance, thankfully before the smirk could get Shiro riled up. 

“Yeah?” They were now seated on the damp earth before the ritual circle. Hunk and Pidge sat side by side, murmuring to each other, and Shiro knelt a little distance away, ready to spring into action should the need arise. Lance had been pacing, but now sat beside Shiro, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

“What if I fuck up?”

Shiro spared him a glance. The Blue Paladin looked like a nervous wreck, his knee bouncing, and he wouldn’t meet Shiro’s eye. 

“I mean, I know I make fun of him a lot and talk a lot of shit, but I never really mean it. He knows that, right? He knows I don’t mean it?”

Shiro paused, unsure of whether to tell the truth or not. The truth could stress Lance out more and make him freeze when it was his turn, or it could be a motivator. 

“Keith tends to take things rather… literally,” he said slowly, trying not to feel too bad when Lance’s face fell. He had asked, after all. “And people haven’t always been kind to him. He probably thinks that you mean what you say, like he does.”   
Lance swallowed hard. “Fuck.”

“But now you have a chance to show him that you don’t mean it. You can do this.”

He nodded, but the movement was edging on hysterical. “Yeah. Yeah, ok. I can do it.”

Then Allura began to awake, and they said no more. 

* * *

_ Keep going keep going keep going.  _

The Galra couldn’t keep her prisoner forever. They’d forgotten how to deal with Alteans. They’d foolishly put her in a cell with metal bars-- metal bars she had merely pulled apart and stepped through within minutes of the guards leaving. Then all she had to do was ambush a guard, steal their armor, and shapeshift to be unnoticeable. 

And now she was going to walk right down to the hangar, get a jet, and fly out before they even knew what happened. The fools.

She was one hallway away from the hangar. She could see the door. She just had to get through this last cellblock, go down one level and she was free. Almost--

“Allura?”

The Princess froze mid-stride. The voice had come from her left, from within one of the cells. All of the sudden she remembered; she wasn’t here alone. Keith had come with her.

And when she turned her head there he was, pressed up against the bars that he wasn’t strong enough to bend like she had, reaching out a hand to her. 

From the looks of it he’d been roughed up a bit after they were separated. A dark bruise encircled one eye, and there was a touch of something on his lip that was probably blood. She should be moving now to free him, he was their Red Paladin after all, they needed him. But, for whatever reason, Allura wasn’t moving. 

Keith’s hand fell a few inches as she stared, and his brow furrowed. “A-allura?”

There was something about the light on his skin. They made it look different. Almost lavender. They almost made him look like the Galra he was.

Slowly, Keith drew his arm back into the cell. There was a strange expression on his face, somewhere between betrayal and resignation, but Allura barely noticed. All she could think was how fitting it seemed. She’d noticed how lonely and sad he seemed on the Castle-- maybe he needed to be with his own people. Ones who would understand him. After all, Red was her father’s lion, surely she’d be able to fly it. 

Was it not kinder to leave him here and remove a stressor from the team dynamic at the same time?

“Allura,” he said for the third time, his voice a hopeless plea, “Please don’t leave me here.”

She didn’t get a chance to answer. At the same moment something crashed into the ship they stood on, making it rock violently and nearly throwing Allura off her feet. There was the monstrous shriek of tearing metal, followed by a deafening mechanical roar. There was only one thing it could’ve belonged to. 

All at once she realized what she’d been doing. Gone was the hint of purple on his skin-- instead she saw that triumphant smirk he always gave in battle or the training deck, the grin when Shiro told a terrible joke, the soft expression that formed when he found Pidge fast asleep over her laptop. 

_ What was I thinking?  _

She wasted no more time before pulling the bars apart with a much quieter creak. Keith stared up at her, apparently surprised, until she grabbed his arm and hauled him upright. 

“Come on,” she said, avoiding his shocked eyes, “We need to move.”

She turned them towards the door, and that’s when it all disintegrated back into darkness. 

* * *

He had no idea what Allura had seen, and she wasn’t saying. All Shiro could tell was that she wouldn’t look at any of them, keeping her head bowed low and her shoulders hunched, and her cheeks were flushed with shame. After he noticed that, Shiro decided he didn’t really want to know what Allura’s test had been. 

Lance stood without waiting for the witches’ summons, and Shiro stood with him, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

“You’ll be ok,” he murmured. Lance took a deep breath. 

“Wish me luck,” he said wryly, then strode over to the witches’ outstretched hands. 

Shiro closed his eyes against the cruel smile that twisted over Jala’s lips, and silently, he prayed. 

* * *

The first thing Lance heard was the crash of waves. Instant euphoria threatened to overwhelm him at the scent of sea air and hot sand, and when he opened his eyes the feeling only grew at the sight that greeted him. 

He knew this beach. He knew that old building, the pizza place overlooking the water. He knew that group of people standing beside it. 

That was his family. He was  _ home.  _

Already he could hear their voices, calling to him over the wind and the waves, calling his name. He started running, and made it exactly four steps before a massive shadow fell over the sand. 

Lance whirled, and just as his heart had leapt at seeing his family, it now stuttered to a stop at the sight; a Galra warship, blotting out the sun. 

Underneath, at the other end of the beach, stood the Red Lion, with an even smaller shape beside it. 

His boots felt like they were sinking into the sand. At his back he could still hear his family crying out to him, their voices now tinged with fear instead of joy, and every strand of his DNA wanted to go to them. To protect them, or maybe be swallowed up by their embraces until the fear went away. 

But the Red Lion was alone. None of the other Lions were in sight, and the comms were silent. The warship loomed overhead like every bad alien invasion movie ever filmed, the Red Lion stood alone against it, and Lance couldn’t seem to move his feet one way or the other.

He had to choose. For good or ill, he had to choose. He took one step, then another, and then he was running again, sprinting down the beach as fast as he could go, the cries of his family echoing in his ears. 

He was breathless when he reached the Red Lion. Between heaving gasps, he managed to ask, “What’s going on? Where are the others?”

Keith didn’t look at him. He clenched his jaw and stared up at the belly of the slowly advancing Galra ship, unblinking.

“Go back to your family, Lance,” he said grimly, summoning his bayard in a flash of light. 

“What about you?”

“I’ll take care of the ship. They need you.”

“You’re going to fight it alone?”

Finally Keith turned his head and met Lance’s searching gaze. His expression was steely, but underneath there was a glimmer of something sad.

Lance recognized that look. It was the one he gave when Lance and the others raced ahead to breakfast without him. When he called him dropout. When they all gathered in the lounge and goofed off and traded jokes and Keith sat in the corner, painfully silent and pulled in on himself like he was afraid of taking up too much space. 

How could he fix that? What could he possibly say to make up for so much pain?

He heard Shiro’s voice in his mind.  _ Say what you mean.  _

So he looked away, squared his shoulders, and summoned his bayard.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

* * *

“Shiro? Shiro!” The fog that had enclosed him was thicker than before, too thick to even see the others’ armor through. But before it’d closed in, he’d seen Shiro reaching for him. He tried reaching back, but the fog was somehow rough, chafing his fingertips through his gloves. 

He tried activating his comms. All he got was static, and Keith had no problem admitting that now he was starting to panic, just a little bit. 

The whispers he’d been hearing before had returned. He still couldn’t make out the words, but now he could recognize the voices as belonging to the three witches. He shouldn’t be able to hear them, not with the mist swirling around him and the wind blowing so loudly it may as well have been the center of a tornado, but that was space for you. Always finding new ways to try to kill you.

After another minute of being trapped in the storm the wind began to die down. The fog was thinning, revealing shadows and silhouettes all around him. Keith ground his teeth and readied his bayard-- Shiro had told him about Haggar’s cloning trick, why shouldn’t these witches know it too? But when the last slips of gray disappeared it wasn’t enemies that were staring him down. 

It was a crowd of those hammer-headed villagers. 

Keith blinked at them, surprised, and they smiled back, seemingly unperturbed by his weapon and his battle stance. Nowhere in sight were the other Paladins or the witches-- he seemed to be alone with this crowd, however that had happened. And the surroundings had changed too; the ground here was firmer, though still a bit soft, with grass growing over it in uneven tufts. It sloped down from where they stood into a large valley ringed with trees resembling weeping willows, and crimson sunlight streamed over it, casting the whole place in a rosy glow.

“Uh…” said Keith, oh so eloquently. “Where…”

One of the villagers stepped forward. They were shorter than him, the top of their head only coming up to his shoulder, and their body was wrapped in woven cloth dyed a brilliant orange. 

“Welcome,” they said in a gentle voice. “The Mothers informed us that we should expect a new arrival.”

Immediately Keith tensed up again. He could guess that they were talking about the witches, so these people could be one of two things-- prisoners, or willing accomplices. And until he found out which, he wasn’t going to let his guard down. 

“The Mothers?” he asked, just to be sure, and the whole crowd dipped their heads.

“Yes, our saviors.”

Well, that didn’t really help the distinction. Could aliens get Stockholm Syndrome? Maybe living in a place like this they could, especially compared to the damp swamp they’d lived in before.

“Come, new brother. Let us extend our hospitality to you.”

Keith, after a reluctant pause, dismissed his bayard. He could always call it back if he needed it, and since they didn’t seem aggressive so far, the best way to get information would probably be to play along. Despite how uncomfortable it made him.

Somewhere out there the others were still in danger. His first priority should be to find a way back to them. 

The alien smiled at him and beckoned him forward; the crowd parted as he followed them down the hill, but closed back in behind them as they went. Knowing his back was being watched made him antsy, but he tried his best to hide it. 

“We have plenty of room,” the alien was saying as they descended into the valley. “We have several open huts built already. You will have one to yourself until another joins us.”

They gestured towards the valley, and it wasn’t difficult to make out the little clump of buildings in the center, surrounded by beaten earth paths and fields of things he could only assume were food. The structures resembled those he’d seen in the swamp village, but they were roofed with leaves of maroon instead of army green. 

Keith wasn’t bothered so much by what he was seeing, but rather what he wasn’t. Walking down the hill revealed most of the valley to him, and nowhere could he find hints of fences, walls, guards-- anything to indicate that these people were being held against their will. 

Just as they reached the bottom of the hill, his patience failed. 

“Are you prisoners here?” he asked, shooting a glance back at the rest of the crowd to see their reactions. “What’s keeping you here? Some kind of invisible wall?” They had them on the training deck, so why not? 

But the alien at his side merely laughed, the sound like bell chimes, and none of the ones following flinched or otherwise indicated discomfort. 

“No one is forced to stay here, new brother. We chose to come and we chose to stay.”

The group began to scatter as they reached the floor of the valley, flitting off to individual mud huts or going to greet others who were awaiting them. This time Keith managed to stay quiet as he followed the guide to the house that was apparently supposed to be his, taking in every face and sound and sight just in case he had to make a run for it later. 

“Here we are.” The hut’s entrance was covered with a white cloth, which the alien pushed aside to allow them entrance. Inside was small and simple, with a cubby carved into one wall to serve as a bed and a few pieces of hand-made wooden furniture within. A circular window faced the direction of the setting sun, letting the light in. 

“These will be yours.” 

Keith turned away from the window just in time to have a bundle of white clothes shoved into his arms. He couldn’t feel their texture through his gloves, but they looked comfortable enough.

“Of course they don’t have to stay white, we can dye them whatever color you like. What’s your preferred color?”

“Um, red.”

“Ah, I should have known.” They tapped a finger against his armor, which for some reason made him flush. “But that’s a matter for later.”

Just as quickly as they’d handed the clothes to him, they pulled them away again and deposited the bundle onto the cubby-bed. 

“The evening meal will be soon, and then we can introduce you to the rest of the community, but for now we must move quickly. The tests will be starting soon.”

Keith’s gut clenched. “What tests?” He asked the question, though he had the unsettling feeling he already knew the answer. 

“The Mothers’ Tests,” clarified the alien, “For those who have neglected you.”

“They didn’t neglect me!” Keith protested. It had been a good long while since the news about Kerberos came out, but he still got prickly when people bad mouthed Shiro. 

The alien shot a look over their shoulder at him. Their four green eyes weren’t as easy to read as human ones, but he got the notion that it was both knowing and pitying. Clearly arguing with them wouldn’t do much, so Keith bit his tongue, but in his mind he played out the rest of his defense. 

_ They didn’t neglect you. It’s not Shiro’s fault he’s busy. It’s not the others’ fault that they don’t like you. It’s not their fault you want too much from them.  _

“Come along, brother. We meet in the field to observe the Tests.”

Without any other ideas coming to mind, Keith followed them back out of the hut. 

Outside was a lively scene, many of the other villagers gathered outside their huts, enjoying the sunset. They sat in little clumps, talking and laughing with one another, and here and there some strolled in pairs, fingers entwined. Most of them were the native species, but there were one or two who appeared to be from other planets, though they fit in with the rest so seamlessly it was almost unnoticeable. 

Looking out over the idyllic valley, Keith couldn’t help but notice that absolutely no one sat alone. 

It must’ve shown on his face, because his guide quietly remarked, “You can belong here, new brother. We reject no one.”

Keith bit the inside of his lip. “I can’t, I’m a paladin. I need to be a part of Voltron to make the universe safe from the Galra Empire.”

The pity in their gaze only increased, burning on his skin like hot iron. “We all had our reasons for staying. The things we told ourselves in the dead of night-- reasons why we couldn’t leave, why we had to stay, made up excuses for who would miss us or why we were needed.”

Keith’s eyes burned.

“But when you watch the tests, when you see how the people you thought loved you really feel, all those reasons fade away.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said, swiping a hand under his visor just in case any errant tears had escaped. “No, they’re not like that.”

_ Shiro’s not like that, at least.  _

The alien said nothing. Just gave him a sad smile, and with one more soft, “Come,” they led him towards the center of the lawn, where the other villagers were beginning to gather. Once again the crowd parted for him, providing an open path towards what looked like some sort of portal.

It was a blue ring of energy, hovering a foot or so off the ground, and instead of seeing the valley when he looked through it he saw thick fog like the kind that had transported him. 

He reached a hand to it, curious, but nothing happened when he touched it. He just went through it like so much air.

“You cannot travel through it,” his guide said, confirming his fears. “It is only for seeing.”

Something sparked in the center of the portal. There was a flash of purple, and red, and green, and the crowd hushed almost instantly, all eyes focused on the image.

“The Tests are beginning. Watch.”

Keith watched. He watched it all. He watched as Allura hesitated and Shiro didn’t. He watched Pidge make a quick decision and Lance make a slow one. He watched Hunk haul a reflection of himself out of a fire and not judge him for being afraid of it. He watched with rage choking him  _ (how dare they make Shiro go through that)  _ and with tears running over his cheeks  _ (Lance chose to stay),  _ and all the while the crowd of aliens watched with him. 

The guide, who had not spoken since the tests began, lightly nudged his elbow. 

“The Mothers will be here soon,” they said, “To hear your choice.”

He wiped the tears away, but before he could say anything in return, the portal closed with a flourish of mist that faded to reveal the three figures he’d been dreading. 

A murmur of awe rippled through the crowd. Some of the aliens dropped to their knees and bowed their heads to the witches, others darted forward with arms outstretched as though expecting a hug, and still others merely looked on with admiring eyes. 

Keith did none of those things. Fists clenched at his sides, he took a determined step forward and shouted at them as loudly as he could.

“Send me back!”

The witches broke away from returning their followers’ affections and turned to him, all three wearing the same slightly amused expression. 

“You’ve made your decision so quickly?” asked the one in purple cloth. Keith scowled at her.

“They passed, didn’t they?”

The red one raised an eyebrow. “Whether they passed or not is up to you.”

Well, Keith didn’t have the slightest idea what  _ that  _ meant, so he just insisted again, “Send me back to them. You made a deal.”

The witch in green floated forward a few steps, mist trailing along like it was stuck to the hem of her robe. “A deal was made, yes. One that could be undone, should you wish it.”

“I don’t!” Why couldn’t these people see that? 

The witch came closer. Slowly she tilted her head to the side, and her green eyes pierced right through Keith’s armor and seemingly into his soul, and he couldn’t resist shuddering. 

“There is a part of you that wishes to stay,” she said with total certainty. “A part that yearns for love and community.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out, because she was right. There was a piece of Keith’s brain that saw all of these happy, tranquil people and wanted to be one of them. Who wanted to believe that they meant it when they said they didn’t reject anyone. But that path was far from promised-- it was entirely possible that even if he stayed, he would become an outcast again. It had happened plenty of times before, and he’d rather be an outcast as a part of Voltron, helping to save people, than be an outcast doing nothing.

“An interesting thought,” said the green witch, jolting him out of his reverie. “You don’t expect anything to change, even after seeing the tests, and yet you still wish to return to them?”

“Yes.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the red one scoffed. “Why do you let yourself be hurt this way? Why do you make yourself vulnerable?”

“Because it’s not just about me.” The words tasted bitter. He was struggling with himself-- a struggle between the part of him that saw Allura hesitate and wanted to run, and the part that saw Shiro sacrifice and wanted to fall back into it. “Voltron is needed. I can’t leave just because I feel lonely.”

_ I can’t run just because I’m scared. _

“It doesn’t matter if Shiro skips training or Lance insults me or the others ignore me. It’s not about me. It’s about everyone else.”

The purple witch narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him. “You would give up a chance for happiness… for Voltron?”

Keith put his shoulders back. “Yes.”

Then, unexpectedly, the witch smiled. “I don’t think you’ll have to. Sisters, let us honor his wish.”

Once again he had no idea what she meant, but that didn’t stop him from saying, “Wait! What about the other people here?”

The purple witch (who Keith was starting to piece together was the leader) raised her chin and addressed the crowd of murmuring aliens. 

“Any who wish to return to their homes may accompany the paladin. If you are displeased with your reception, let it be known that you will always be welcomed here.”

None of the aliens moved. Honestly, Keith hadn’t been expecting them to. Still, he had to at least try to complete the mission, right?

“Come, Paladin,” said the one in green, extending a hand. “It’s time to go home.” 

* * *

“Keith!” 

Hunk was charging the moment the swirl of fog began to dissipate. Pidge was right on his heels, and together they practically tackled Keith to the ground, both stumbling over the apologies spewing from their mouths. 

So far Shiro wasn’t seeing any signs of the other missing villagers, but for the moment that was on the backburner. They could worry about the mission later-- right now he just wanted to see his brother. 

Hunk and Pidge backed off when he and Allura approached. Lance hung back, watching from the edge of the gathering. 

“Are you hurt?” Allura inquired, giving him a quick once over. Keith gave her a wry grin and shook his head, and from what Shiro could see, he was telling the truth. His armor was untouched, though very muddy. 

This whole time he’d been practicing what he was going to say when they got Keith back. How he would apologize, the promises he would make. But when Keith’s eyes fell upon him, large and hopeful, his throat closed. 

So he said nothing. Just stumbled forward and hauled Keith into an embrace. Their armor was clunky and in the way, but Shiro disregarded it. All that mattered was that he was here. He hadn’t been taken away from them. 

“Are you ok?” he managed to ask eventually. A bit redundant given Allura’s query, but he wanted to be sure. 

Keith nodded into his shoulder. “I’m alright. I’m… sorry they did that to you.”

“You saw?” His voice came out strangled, and Keith pulled back to look him in the eye. Everyone had heard and now clumped around, including Lance, though he hadn’t yet said anything. 

“Yeah,” Keith admitted. “They showed me.”

Allura went pale. But Keith frowned at her and shook his head.

“It’s ok, Princess.” 

She put a hand over her mouth, eyes gleaming like she was about to cry. Thankfully Lance saved her the embarrassment by finally speaking up.

“What about the rest of the missing villagers? I thought the deal was they all got let go too.”

“They didn’t want to leave.”

If all eyes hadn’t been on Keith before, they certainly were now, and he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. He almost looked ashamed, though of what Shiro hadn’t the slightest clue. 

“What do you mean they didn’t want to leave?” asked Hunk.

“Well, they came out here because they were lonely, right?” he said, looking down at his hands and fidgeting with his fingers. “They felt unwanted. They left of their own free will. The Mothers built them a place where they can be happy, and they didn’t want to leave.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “The Mothers?”

Keith flushed red. “That’s what the villagers called them. The Mothers.”

Looking into his eyes at that moment, Shiro felt something in him break. Because Keith didn’t have a mother, or a family, and for a long time hadn’t had anyone, and Shiro had neglected him to the point where he felt unwanted and alone, even on a team that was supposed to be bound so closely. And despite all of that Keith had come back to them. He’d given them another chance.

Shiro wasn’t sure if he deserved that chance or not, but he’d be damned if he let it go to waste. 

“Aw, Shiro,” someone said, and it wasn’t until then that he realized he was crying. He didn’t even care. He pulled Keith back into his arms, tucking his head under his chin, and stared up at the gray sky. Somewhere amidst the clouds there was a glint of sunlight. 

“I’m sorry, Keith.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Keith mumbled. Shiro’s eyes met Allura’s, then Lance’s. All of them knew that they did have to be sorry, that they’d made mistakes and they had to show Keith that they were going to try and fix them, not just take it for granted that he wouldn’t be bothered, but that was work for another day. 

A day when they were, preferably, not in the middle of a stinky swamp covered in mud. 

“We should be getting back,” said Allura, “Coran will be worried sick.”

“We also have to tell the Elders that they aren’t getting their townsfolk back,” Pidge reminded them glumly, and they all sagged a little, not looking forward to the conversation in the slightest. 

“Well, better get it over with,” Shiro said with a sigh, shifting so that his hug with Keith turned into walking side by side with his arm over Keith’s shoulders. “Then we can all get home and have a bath.”

There was quiet as they made their way back to the speeders; the kind of content quiet after a long day out. The silence persisted until they were all aboard their respective vehicles, and then the comms crackled. 

“I still bet ten GAC on Hunk.” 

* * *

The Elders were waiting for them outside the village, along with (as Shiro noted with a grimace) a large crowd of other people, doubtless the family members of the lost ones. 

“Hail, Paladins of Voltron,” called the stooped Elder when they’d climbed off the speeders. “Was your mission unsuccessful?”

“Not exactly,” answered Allura, making her way to the front of the group, which Shiro gladly let her do. He didn’t want to be the one explaining this. “We did meet with the beings you described.” 

“And?” pressed another Elder. “Did they agree to release their prisoners?”

“They were not prisoners. Your townsfolk went to them of their own free will, and as such they could not be forced to leave.”

One of the aliens behind the Elders spat on the ground, hobbling forward with the help of a younger family member. Their skin was wrinkled and gnarled, but their four eyes still spat unbridled fire.

“And you believed them?” they said disdainfully. “Of course jailors would claim those in chains are pleased. Fools you must be for falling for their tricks.”

And then, to Shiro’s surprise, Keith spoke up. 

“I saw them.” All of the aliens’ gazes turned on him, narrowed and mistrustful, but Keith bore it without flinching. “I saw where they lived. I offered to take them with me. But none of them wanted to. They feel safe there. Safe and happy.” His voice trailed off towards the end, prompting the third Elder to interject.

“Happy? Did you say happy?”

Keith raised his chin. “Yes, I did. Your family members are happy there, in the place the Mothers built for them. They feel loved there.”

“But they were loved here!” protested the younger alien who was supporting their feisty relative. “We loved them, we did!”

“Sometimes,” said Shiro, moving forward to join Allura, “Sometimes you love someone but aren’t very good at showing it.” He snuck a side glance at Keith, who was watching him with a stunned expression on his face. “And sometimes, if you really want someone to be happy, you have to let them-- even if it means letting them go.”

The Elders bowed their heads thoughtfully. The outspoken villager scowled at them and moved back to the crowd, but their helper looked contrite. 

Finally the Elder with the staff looked up. His eyes fell on Keith. 

“Do you swear?” he asked, “That our people are happy?”

“I swear.” There was no hesitation. 

“Then we thank you, both for your service and your honesty.”

Shiro, following Allura’s lead, bowed his head in a sign of respect. 

After that events started to bleed together, a side effect of his weariness. The Elders extended a reluctant dinner invitation that Allura politely declined. The long drive back to the Castle went by in a blur, then they all scattered to rid themselves of their filthy armor and the stench of the swamp. 

Eventually Shiro managed to pin Keith down in his room, armed with a tube of Altean healing cream as his excuse. Keith, probably able to tell this conversation was going to happen whether he liked it or not, folded. 

The bruises were far worse than Shiro had expected. Normally covered by his jacket, Shiro had only noticed him wince a few times and assumed they weren’t serious. He’d been wrong. 

“What level were you training at?” he asked, sitting behind Keith on his bed as he began to delicately apply the cream. 

“Nine,” Keith mumbled, and Shiro nearly dropped the tube. 

“Nine?! Why the hell would you set it so high? We usually run it on five.”

Keith gave a weak shrug. He didn’t answer verbally until Shiro returned to his work, and when he did it was quiet, barely a whisper. 

“I figured you were bored being stuck on level five. So if I got better you wouldn’t be bored anymore.”

Shiro mentally kicked himself. Of course Keith would’ve found a way to blame himself for Shiro’s negligence. But he stayed silent for a moment, finishing applying the cream to a large bruise on Keith’s spine before moving to the next one. 

“You never said.”

Keith scoffed. “I never say. You know that.”

He did. For so long Keith had been taught not to want. To take what others deigned to give him in the hopes that his complacency would earn him affection. Keith had told him his strategies before for surviving in new groups of people. At the time that had meant foster homes. Now it meant something different. 

Don’t ask for things. Don’t be loud. Don’t be too affectionate or clingy. Mimic the other person’s preferences, and if you don’t know them, show no preference of your own. Don’t get angry or speak up if you’re wronged (the one he failed at most often). And, most importantly, don’t expect anything-- you’ll only end up disappointed. 

Old habits, it seemed, died hard.

“Yeah, I know. You hurt, but you don’t say anything.”

Keith nodded a tiny bit, and Shiro moved on to the next bruise. 

“You deserve to be happy.” He felt Keith’s body tense under his hands, but he continued without pause. “You deserve to feel loved. You shouldn’t have to suffer in silence-- you don’t deserve that.”

Keith’s voice was choked when he said his name, but Shiro ploughed onwards. He needed Keith to understand this or he’d go on letting them walk all over him and never say a thing, even as he dug himself deeper into his pit of solitude.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Keith. But we’re not perfect, and we’re going to mess up sometimes, and we can’t fix it unless you tell us. We want to give you what you need. All you have to do is open the door to us.”

Keith sniffled. Figuring he’d done enough soul shaking for tonight, Shiro was silent as he finished spreading the cream over the rest of the wicked bruises. He was just finishing up when they both heard the sounds of footsteps in the hall, accompanied by voices. They paused, then someone knocked on the door. 

“Dinner’s ready,” said Hunk’s voice on the other side. 

“Don’t keep us waiting,” Lance said with a teasing lilt, “I’m starving after all that running around in the swamp.”

“Stop hogging him, Shiro!” 

The line from Pidge made him chuckle under his breath, and after screwing the lid back on the cream, Shiro got to his feet and held out a hand to Keith.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes,” Keith answered, and with a small smile, took Shiro’s hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> Major thanks to justheretobreakthings and callaeidae3 for betaing this and giving me the inspiration for the ending.


End file.
